


Set My Sights on You

by bienenalster (pinkspider)



Series: Tracks [4]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, Pining, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 00:16:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5070475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkspider/pseuds/bienenalster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack doesn't know if he's in love, but he's in something and he wants Kent like he's never wanted anyone before. He knows Kent is a bad idea, but his broken record of a brain is too stuck.</p><p>Or, Jacks's sad, dumb, lovely teen imagination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Set My Sights on You

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to rayemars for the beta. I appreciate your willingness to deal with my, "look at this cute thing -- surprise! It is sad!" tendencies.
> 
> And, Pax, sorry about the pining. A different kind of horrible melancholy will happen eventually, I promise, bro! 

Brenda is intelligent and funny and wants to know if Jack would like to go to the movies with her. She sits next to him in history class. She can hold a good discussion and usually has a witty remark ready to hand. Best of all, she doesn’t act any differently around him than she does with anyone else.

To her, he’s like a normal guy - just Jack from history class. She's one of the only people from school he had to actually tell he was playing for the Océanic. She knows who his dad is, but in the vague kind of way Jack knows the names of movie directors. Brenda told him she's not that into hockey with an apologetic shrug. But, even though he's not really anything all that special to Brenda, she still wants to spend time with him. The proof is right there on his phone.

_wanna go out to the movies_

Jack leans back again this pillow and frowns down at the text, weighing his options. He could go see a movie with Brenda. They could buy popcorn and giddily brush fingers when they grab handfuls, then go for a walk in the park. She could tell him about the last book she read, and he’d drink in her ideas and her jokes and feel full of warmth. The streetlights would shine prettily on her hair, and he’d wonder if it would be a little much to touch it before deciding, yes, it would definitely be a weird thing to do. Before going home, they’d kiss -- awkwardly first, then gently, then with more intensity until they broke apart and said sheepish and pleased good nights. Jack could do that. He thinks he’d like it. He probably should do that.  
But he won’t.

He'll keep setting his sights on Kent, which he knows is a bad idea.

He’ll do it anyway. Staring at Kent is something he can't help, even if it leaves him feeling unsteady and a little dizzy. He could lose himself in the ever-changing swirl of Kent's eyes. It seems like these days, whenever Jack looks around, his eyes catch on Kent skating in tight circles on the ice, weaving through a crowd at a party, laughing when he laps Jack on a jog. Again and again he notices how Kent's hair catches the light and shines it back brighter. He has stupid thoughts about running his fingers through the cowlick that Kent hates so much and chirping him about it before smoothing it down and laughing when he takes his hand away and it pops right back up.

Jack doesn't know if he's in love, but he's in something and he wants Kent like he's never wanted anyone before.  
One day he’ll find his courage and take the plunge. They’ll be sitting alone together in Kent’s room on a cold winter night, leaned back against the side of the bed while watching some TV show or another. The stillness of the night will press around them, creating a bubble suspended in time where Jack doesn’t have to worry about anything. He can just be and enjoy Kent’s presence and the peacefulness of being alone with him.

It’ll be like nothing else exists, and he’ll wrap his arm around Kent’s shoulder, putting his hand over Kent’s bicep. Jack will train his gaze straight ahead while his fingers stroke lightly across Kent’s skin; and after a moment, he’ll feel the weight of Kent’s head on his shoulder, and hair will brush against Jack's neck. As Kent settles against him, their sides and thighs will press together and send a current of warmth zinging throughout Jack’s veins. That’s when Jack will move his hand up to rest on Kent’s head and tangle his fingers in Kent’s hair.

He’ll hold his breath, waiting to see what happens next.

And then.

Maybe Kent will be into it, and he’ll also reach up, touching Jack’s cheekbone with the pads of his fingers and turning Jack’s face towards his. That close, he'll be able to make out the light sprinkle of freckles on Kent’s nose that are normally all but invisible.

After a tense moment of indecision, Kent will lean forward to press his lips softly against Jack’s, and Jack will melt into him, cradling the back of Kent's head to deepen the contact. As if they’re operating by telepathy, they'll open their mouths to the kiss at the same time, moving as one person, exactly as effortless and fulfilling as how they work together in the rink. Kent's teeth will catch Jack's lower lip and it will be a bright pinprick in the cottony haze of Jack's thoughts, the slight pain keeping him tethered in the headiness of the moment.

Without taking his hands off Jack’s face, Kent will shift so he’s straddling Jack’s legs, and Jack will move his free hand to Kent’s back. He'll slip his hand under Kent’s shirt and trace up his spine, savoring the warmth of Kent's skin as he presses his fingers against the bones underneath. From deep in Kent’s throat, Jack will hear a tiny moan, and he'll dimly realize that he’s making the same noises. It would be embarrassing if it weren't so hot.

And just like that, Jack won't care about anything else. All the worry will be poured right out of him, and he’ll finally be empty and at peace, not like normal, not at all.

And so he'll throw himself after Kent headlong, and pull him in closer to kiss him frantically, fumbling under Kent's shirt, trying to touch as much of him as he possibly can, pressing him flush against Jack. Their noses will bump and their teeth clack together at first, but they'll be beyond caring, and they'll figure it out.

They won't say a damn word, won't need to. Kent's hips will move against him, and one of Kent's hands will brace on Jack's shoulder while the other slips to the waistband of Jack's pants. Jack will gasp into Kent's mouth and feel Kent smirk in satisfaction as his hand closes around Jack's dick. Kent will break the kiss, leaning back to watch Jack's face as he jerks him off, inexpertly but still effectively, until Jack comes into his hand.

"Sorry," Jack will say, his head still spinning, as Kent reaches past him for the tissues on the nightstand. "I should've --"  
"No, 's'ok, just.

"Yeah." Jack's fingers will be too clumsy unbuttoning Kent's jeans, but whatever. When he starts working his hand up and down Kent's cock, Kent's fingers will dig harder into Jack's shoulders. He'll be panting into Jack's neck when he comes, and then he'll collapse against Jack. Their shuddering breaths will be the only sound as they sit and collect themselves. Kent will nuzzle Jack's neck, and Jack will bury his nose in Kent's golden hair. It'll smell like his shampoo, clean with just a little spice. Kent will lift his head back up to give Jack another kiss. It'll be slow, and sleepy, and have no heat in it, just lazy satisfaction.  
It'll be too perfect.

After, they'll clean up and change, and laugh at how the ratty old sweatpants Kent will loan him fall inches above his ankles. Outside, it'll be snowing harder.

"Why don't you just stay?" Kent will ask.

"Yeah," and Jack will put an arm around his shoulder. He'll wake up the next morning with Kent plastered close against his back, an arm over him and their ankles tangled together. He'll press back, nestled close against Kent, and stare out the window at the undisturbed snow.

Jack has imagined that, and a million variations, every day, until he makes his own brain dizzy with spinning endlessly around Kent.

But for every time he's imagined kisses and enthusiastic blowjobs and more, his broken record of a mind has cycled through a dozen more horrible but far more likely possibilities.

Because, face facts, there's no way this could ever work out like Jack wants. It's just not realistic. He has goals. Everyone around him has expectations. A boyfriend (god, even just the word) is not in the cards.

To say nothing of the fact that it's Kent. Not just some other guy who's also into guys. Kent fucking Parson. Jack honestly has no idea what Kent's into, but he's pretty sure it isn't men, or at least not Jack. And he's scared to ask because he knows what the reaction will be.

"What the fuck? Dude, no. I mean, sorry, but." Kent's smile will disappear, and his eyes will widen in shock while going that flat, stony gray. His whole face will close off, and Jack will clumsily change the subject to something safe and dumb, and Kent's eyes will soften but he won't relax like he had been. They'll both hold their limbs close in, with tight shoulders, and Jack's throat will choke up as he laughs at the dumb jokes Kent will make to break the tension.

"Zimmer down," and with that inside joke, Kent will do his best to smooth over Jack's idiocy.

Jack will keep smiling through it. It was no big deal. That was just one little dumb thing he said. They can forget it. Please just forget it.

But they won't, not either one of them.

They won't ever talk about it again. They'll both stay single, or maybe get girlfriends (honestly, Kent could have whoever he wants, Jack's sure). But that horrible moment, that critically bad choice will be there, and every time their hands brush together accidentally they'll jerk them away like they touched a hot stove. Sometimes, Jack will catch Kent's eyes and feel his face redden in shame. It'll haunt more of his waking moments than it reasonably should.

And before long, he'll lose what they already have: sprawling on the couch to watch action movies; punching each other on the arm while playing XBox; sneaking beers with the boys.

Kent will stop hanging out with Jack as much. King, and Smithy, and Brown and the others will follow. They'll be teammates but not friends, and Jack will be back to going it alone.

He couldn't bear that. It would kill him.

Better to hold on to the hard won friendship he has with Kent. That's enough. Surreptitious glances in the locker room. Occasionally sitting a little too close to him. Savoring the times when they lean close on the bus to share earbuds. Watching Kent's mouth move while they all chat about plays or which girls at school have the best racks. Allowing himself all the daydreams he can handle.

It's the smart play. So, Jack picks up his phone and texts Brenda back.

_Yeah a movie sounds good. Friday?_

He doesn't have to wait long before his phone rings and it's her on the line. They make plans and fall into a comfortable conversation about their homework and annoying shit their teachers do. When Jack hangs up the phone, he's looking forward to their date a lot more than he had thought he would. It's for the best. It'll turn out just fine.

Then he falls asleep and dreams about Kent again.


End file.
